


Ghost

by Plugs



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gore, M/M, dubcon, from a ghost, handjob, kinda. Rather tag than not, not really more implied damage that’s held together by ghostly energy, spark job, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 12:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15142700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plugs/pseuds/Plugs
Summary: Very short fic. Starscream is a ghost, him and Megs have sexy times.





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Haven’t written for weeks (not by choice) so hammered this out to try get rid of some cobwebs.

The kiss tasted like fire.

 

Starscream’s dead translucent optics looked into Megatron as their lips parted.

Not ‘at’ him, _inside_ him. The burning eyes pierced though his body, his spark palpitating under its strength. Starscream’s fractured body showing its barren spark chamber.

 

“You died” Megatron’s voice was horse. His throat felt as if he’d drank acid rain.

 

_“If you think death could stop me”_ a fractured digit held together by glowing plasma ran down Megatron’s cheek, _“My love, I question if you truly knew me”_

Was that a mocking tone? The rasping echo seemed to come from everywhere at once.

 

Half his body and faceplate missing, Starscream was still beautiful, would always be such. The yellow sickly glow of his ruined body reflecting off Megatron’s armour. On impulse he reached out a black servo into the mess of a torso—the jagged parts rippled and moved, it felt like thrusting his servo into a cold blanket of mine gas.

 

“Do you feel that?”

 

_“Having a servo stuck inside me? What do you think”_ Starscream grumbled, _“Wonder how you’d like it”_

 

Before Megatron could react something was caressing his spark. Something painfully, pleasurably cold. He groaned and feel to his knees.

 

_“Pity I had to die to get you bowing”_

 

The pleasure ratcheted up, sharp and intoxicating. Cold servos roaming his frame, sharp icy teeth biting his neck cables. A tongue licked down his abdomen, as if liquid nitrogen was dribbling down.

His interface panel was scorching, and Megatron hissed as cold digits worked his spike. Each caress hurt wonderfully.

Megatron overloaded, lubricant and transfluid dripping. The aftershocks crashing like a storm over a rock. Starscream’s smirk greeted him, filling his static peppered vision.

 

_“If you think death could stop me doing that, you were wrong too”_

 


End file.
